


there are many ways to love

by thatotherperv



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Coming of Age, F/M, M/M, Multi, Rare Pairings, References to Abuse, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Identity, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-08
Updated: 2007-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if I was going to give this a summary, it would go something like, "a series of vignettes following one boy's journey through sex and love," but that's pretentious and stupid, so I won't summarize</p><p>human AU, Angel/everyone</p>
            </blockquote>





	there are many ways to love

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely sure where this came from, but it was fun to play with. I was thinking about how flexible orientation can be. There’s the standard convention of “I’ve always known,” but what about those who don’t?
> 
> Plus it was a good excuse to play with a bunch of pairings I never use.
> 
> explores Angel's relationship (in a human AU context) with Kathy (as family), Faith, Ethan, Buffy, Wesley, Fred (er, sorta), Lindsey, Darla, Cordy, and Doyle.
> 
> Dunno if I love the title, but I was all out of ideas
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/121439.html)

The doll was small and peachy-pink and belonged to his older sister, and his mother had shown him how to hold it.

He didn’t really see much point in it—it was a little lump of plastic, and it didn’t _really_ need to be comforted or fed or changed, but after a while, it grew on him. His mother said he needed to practice if he wanted to be allowed to hold the baby when it came, so he did.

Her tummy was already round and tight, and sometimes he could feel his little sister kicking around in there. He liked to talk to her. Mom said she could hear, so he told her everything he thought she needed to know beforehand. Some of it was for her ears only, but his mother eavesdropped and sometimes she smiled like he was saying something funny.

Liam was dead serious. He was trying to prepare Kathy for life in the Turner household. It was a doggy-dog world out here. He wished someone had told _him_ how to keep anyone from swiping the last piece of cake.

Spit worked best, but dad didn’t like that at the dinner table.

So even though the doll was kind of stupid, sometimes he held it and talked to it and imagined what he would do when Kathy arrived. She would be sweet and soft and tiny, and sometimes when he held the doll and thought about it, his chest ached with warmth. His big brother made fun of him for it, but she was going to like Liam better, so that was ok.

She was going to be his. He would take good care of her.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Faith lived down the road, Liam had played with her his whole life. She didn’t really act like a girl. He was pretty sure she would kick him in the stomach before she giggled over him like some of the girls in their class.

She was a little weird. Sometimes she said strange things, and she liked to tickle and wrestle a lot, but then again, her dad was weird, so maybe it ran in the family.

Wrestling was fun, although his mom said they were getting to be too old to do that kind of thing. He knew she meant so they wouldn’t do sex stuff. He wasn’t stupid.

He thought _she_ might be stupid for thinking he would want to, though. 

Then one day, he and Faith were hanging out down by the river, and it was too cold to swim and too hot to want to wrestle for long, so he pushed Faith away when she tried. They were laying kind of at an angle with their heads close together when she told him he could touch her if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. He was old enough to know that was a weird thing to say, and way too young to think it was cool.

She seemed kind of hurt that he wouldn’t, and it was uncomfortable. They went home early, and after that, they avoided one another more and more until they weren’t really friends anymore.

Liam guessed she found other boys to touch her. He heard people talk about it, sometimes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Kathy liked to play dress-up. He figured that pretty much came with being a girl, but sometimes when his mom left him to watch her, she wanted _him_ to play dress-up too.

Which was a different thing altogether. But sometimes he let her.

He wasn’t good at refusing Kathy anything she wanted, and it wasn’t like she was asking him to put on a dress. If she did, he was pretty sure he would have said no.

It was just a little makeup. It would wash off. And it had the added benefit of pissing off Annie when she saw that they’d gone into her room to use hers.

The whole thing did have its downside, in that Kathy wasn’t as good a makeup artist as she thought. She almost poked his eye out with the mascara, and when she got some of that dusty stuff from the brush up his nose, it made him sneeze, and they both laughed. 

Lipstick didn’t taste very good, but her aim wasn’t that great either. 

When it was Kathy’s turn, he did her makeup for her. He was getting pretty good at it, he thought. 

He liked her better without it. He thought Kathy was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. She’d been perfect since the day she was born.

Sean got home early, and when he found them in Annie’s room, he asked Liam if he was queer. But then Annie came in behind him and screeched about how they’d ruined her life or something stupid like that, so he never had to answer.

He wasn’t sure what he would have said. He didn’t like the question.

He didn’t know the answer.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Mr. Rayne was the art teacher.

There was something about him that Liam liked. He wasn’t sure what it was, except that Ethan, as he asked to be called, was different from anyone he’d ever known.

Liam felt funny calling him that, as if it were a secret. During class, he still called him Mr. Rayne. All of the other kids would make fun of him for calling the teacher by his first name.

Liam found that he just wanted to be around Ethan. He’d been all over the world, and he seemed like he had so many secrets. The way he spoke was intriguing, and not just because of his accent. He knew things.

Liam was hungry to leave this town. Hungry to hear what lay beyond it.

He made excuses to stay after school. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes Liam just enjoyed the rare time for quiet—something he didn’t get much at home in a family of six. The privacy to draw and paint. Ethan said he was talented, and that embarrassed him as much as it pleased him. His father said his drawings were a childish waste of time.

When Ethan smiled at him and joked with him quietly, it made him feel warm and nervous. He liked the attention, and he always wanted more.

Then one day, Liam got up the nerve to show Ethan the sketches he had done of him. His heart was pounding, and he was scared he would think they were terrible, or that he would tell him it was a weird thing to be drawing. 

When Ethan smiled, his stomach fluttered strangely. And then Ethan touched him. He never had before, and it was something Liam had noticed because it always seemed as if he were on the verge of doing so. Leaning over his shoulder or standing close, arm nearly brushing Liam’s or hand resting on the back of his chair. He always got close, but they never actually touched.

But that day, he did. He put aside the sketches and stood close, and they were nearly the same height because Liam had been growing, and Ethan brushed the backs of his fingers over Liam’s cheek. His thumb stroked along Liam’s jaw, and Liam didn’t breathe or move or do anything but stand there, letting Ethan study his face.

He could feel the gentle, humid puffs of air on his face as Ethan breathed. It made him want to lean forward, but he stayed still.

And he blushed when Ethan told him that he was not only an artist, he was a work of art.

Then Ethan carded his fingers through Liam’s too-long hair, pushing it back from his face, and drew away, and the moment was over, and so was the day.

Ethan took care to never touch him again, but sometimes, Liam could feel his eyes. Like a caress of their own. It never failed to make him nervous, in a happy way.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Buffy Summers was golden and enchanting. That was the word Liam used in his head, although Sean would tease him forever if he found out. She was outgoing and liked by everyone and funny in a quick way that Liam never would be, although sometimes he said things that made her laugh. She was dainty. She made him feel big and clumsy and like his feet were too big, but also like he could protect her.

Even though he supposed she wasn’t a girl that would really appreciate the idea that she might need protecting. 

She was so pleasing to look at that sometimes he thought he’d been wrong all along. Kathy hadn’t been the prettiest girl ever born after all.

The first time they kissed it was heaven…he couldn’t imagine anything better than this. Sure, it was a little messy and she kept pulling back like maybe he was choking her with his tongue, but her mom was away and her dad didn’t live with them, so they kissed for hours and he was pretty sure he got better at it.

And it was nice. Soft and warm, and she smelled good, and when they lay down and sort of rubbed against each other as they kissed, it was…more than nice.

Liam was feeling hot and uncomfortable when she said it was time for him to go. That was the first time he actually masturbated. The church might say it was wrong, but the priests probably didn’t have girlfriends that kissed like Buffy.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Wesley…liked him. Possibly in a gay way according to everyone at school, and Angel was supposed to be freaked out by that. And he was, but maybe not for the right reasons.

He didn’t mind Wes. Mostly his crush or…whatever it was…consisted of following him around, sucking up, and offering to do things for him. They weren’t even sure the guy was gay. He was from England, so maybe he was just…being…English. Or something. They didn’t really get a lot of foreign guys around here, so nobody knew.

Angel honestly didn’t think he’d have a problem with it at all, except it made him…feel stuff. Things-he-was-going-to-have-to-confess kind of stuff. But if it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t mind. Wes was smart…and _funny_ , even though nobody realized it. Angel thought he was funny in kind of the same way as him.

He was a little lame, but if anything, that was cute. Angel knew he was lame too, even though he’d kind of been accepted by the in-crowd somewhere along the line…without really meaning to be.

Wes, however, was not ever destined to be cool by association.

Then one weekend, Angel showed up at this party out on the Harris property and Wes was there, watching them build the bonfire like it was a safety hazard for a bunch of drunk teenagers to set something that big on fire outdoors…which it was, obviously. That was the whole point. But Wes didn’t understand stuff like that, and Angel was pretty sure he had only shown up in case he would be there.

And somehow, later that night they ended up off in the field somewhere, far away from the bonfire where everyone was congregated, making out. Angel may have been a little tipsy. But he didn’t think that had anything to do with the fact that it was so good. Wes was all hard and muscley (which he hadn’t expected, in Wes) and when Angel pressed him into the ground and got rough, Wes just moaned and fisted his hand against his t-shirt, pressing between Angel’s shoulder blades like he wanted him. 

It was rough and exciting, and Wes seemed to like it when Angel manhandled him, so he was a little confused when he was pushed onto his back.

It all became remarkably clear when Wes unzipped his jeans and began to give him his very first blowjob.

Wes…was definitely gay. And it was safe to say he’d done this before. 

And it was also safe to say that Angel was officially gay. Or bi. Or something.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Cordelia Chase dazzled him. Or maybe the phrase was that she blew him away. Like a curvy, sexy cyclone. They lived in the same dorm and she was a Business major.

It suited her. He’d never met a woman so fixated on quarterly revenues. 

Angel was just in the School of Design, but all of his friends were really into politics, and they all thought they wanted to change the world. Or maybe save it. They thought capitalism was hell-on-earth or something, so Cordy didn’t really fit in. Everyone thought she was a real bitch.

But Angel liked her. She lit up his life and she fascinated him, and he would have been very lonely that first year without her.

It seemed kind of natural when they slid from friendship into something more.

They fooled around a lot before they ever had sex, and it was nice. She had a great smile, and an even better laugh. He kind of wanted to draw her. Her body was lush and pleasing to the eye and so wonderfully feminine. He didn’t know if she would ever agree to pose for him, so he never asked—as vain as she was, she was also modest, in her own way.

Then it was time for them to have sex. He’d never done that before, which she teased him about—called him a closet romantic—and he didn’t tell her that he’d just never been…all that interested. He was beginning to see that there was a closet involved, but maybe not the one she was thinking of.

It all became apparent soon enough. You couldn’t fool biology...and you couldn't really hide it, either.

It hurt her a lot, though she pretended it didn’t. It wasn’t until she swore to never speak to him again with mussed hair and tears in her eyes that he realized she’d been in love with him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

So it turned out Angel was gay. Which was fine with him, except his mother wouldn’t listen and kept trying to set him up with women.

He made a lot of good friends that way. Fred was a lovely girl. If her gender had matched her name, they could have been in business.

But it turned out Fred had a brother. Lindsey was a short, ornery, deceitful, annoying little shit.

Angel hated him. The feeling was mutual.

The first time they fucked, they were both so drunk the only evidence they had in the morning was a used condom and a sore ass—Lindsey’s, clearly. But then it happened again, and they both remembered it well enough to feel compelled to try it a third time, to make sure it hadn’t been a fluke.

The next thing they knew, they were moving in together, though neither of them knew who had asked whom, or why they thought this was a good idea…and when had they started dating, anyway?

Angel realized later, counting months on the calendar in a fit of masochistic moroseness, that they had been together in their unofficially official way for a year and a half when Lindsey brought Darla to bed with them. Angel had agreed because he’d read somewhere that these were supposed to be the experimental years, and because she was the first woman to get him hot in recent memory, and because he and Linds hadn’t fucked in a month. 

A week later, Lindsey was gone. Turned out Linds was bi, and he wished he was straight.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Angel was pretty sure he was the only sober person in all of Galway. 

He watched suspiciously as Kathy walked by with a plastic cup of amber liquid. “Kat.”

Instantly she went limp with exasperation in that way only a sixteen-year-old girl could. And boy, was she _sixteen_. “ _Liam_.”

He quirked a brow and held out his hand, and she grudgingly handed the beer off to him before stomping off.

A voice behind him broke in with a thick accent. “Now that was just heartless. What’s the harm in a little public intoxication, I ask you?”

“The harm is that she’s six—” Having turned towards the strange interloper, Angel stared at him and blinked. 

Pretty.

The man’s eyes smiled along with the rest of him. “I dunno, man, she’s old enough to see over the counter, so she’s old enough for us. Let er have a little fun.”

Angel couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered down and back. “Says the only other guy here who’s not weaving on his feet.”

The man rubbed the back of his neck and smiled wryly. “Yeah, well as it turns out, there is harm to drinking for _me_. They’ll thank me for abstaining, believe me. But you’re only young once, yeah?”

Angel’s mouth tipped up in a tentative grin, eyes finding Kathy again. “That’s my point. I remember what _I_ was doing at her age after a couple beers.”

The man laughed. “Too right. But for god’s sakes, it’s a family reunion!”

Angel shrugged non-committally and they watched the young boys orbiting around Angel’s little sister. Some of them were friends of the family…some, he didn’t think he wanted to know. Relatedness didn’t matter much where hormones were involved, especially if you’d never met.

He side-eyed the man standing next to him, who was also taking note of the dance that was being played.

“On second thought, maybe sobriety’s for the best. Shameless little currs.” He turned and offered Angel a hand. “Francis Allen Doyle.”

It was dry and warm and fit nicely in his. He might have retained it a moment too long. “Doyle.” He tried to remember if Doyle was one of their surnames, but the family was just too big.

“And you’d be Liam, yeah?”

Angel blinked. He had no idea why this guy knew who he was. “Yeah. But most people call me Angel. Are we…. How are we related again?”

“Oh, t’rough marriage. My wife is your second cousin.”

“Oh.” His sinking disappointment warred with relief that he wasn’t actually lusting after blood kin. 

“Though I should say, _ex_ -wife. She hates when I forget the ‘ex’ part. Been divorced t'ree years, you’d think it’d be habit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” There was an awkward silence as they looked out over the party—Angel watched his mother stumble and laugh as his father caught her, so drunk himself that he barely kept them upright. He shook his head with a laugh and sipped the confiscated beer. Doyle suddenly spoke again as if he’d never stopped.

“We parted ways amicably enough. Turns out I like men.”

Doyle was watching him with a knowing expression, and suddenly Angel wondered if he’d been set up again. At least his mother’s taste was improving. 

“You don’t say.”

 

end.

**Author's Note:**

> in the first section, the phrase “doggy-dog” is a deliberate mistake. when I was a little kid, I really thought that was how the saying went. *g*


End file.
